


Campus Conversation Piece

by thathyperloudfangirlchick



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Professor AU, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:50:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thathyperloudfangirlchick/pseuds/thathyperloudfangirlchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I heard that apparently they use their offices to have sex.”</p>
<p>“Dude, I bet they totally do; I mean, what else would you use those private offices for?”</p>
<p>“Dude, what if they had sex on the desks?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Campus Conversation Piece

          “I saw them walking next to each other this morning. Do you think they came to school together?” a mousy student whispers to the giggling classmate next to her. She waves a hand dismissively, their heads leaning together conspiratorially.

          “Of course not, they’re college professors; they’re too smart and subtle for that. They are probably star-crossed lovers, unable to proclaim their affection because of their jobs and Professor Hotchner’s mysterious past. Imagine, walking together might be their only contact during the day, the only touch they allow themselves.” She clasps her hands together and swoons, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips as she flips the hair over her shoulder. You sneak up behind them, your face popping in between theirs.

          “Oh, Miss Clark, your English major is showing,” you tease, luxuriating in the shocked, embarrassed looks on your students’ faces as they straighten up in their seats. They sputter behind you as you sashay down the stairs, the other students in the room snapping to attention as you approach the board. You hoist yourself on top of your desk, smiling as you look around the room at the eager potential around you, your yellow heels beating a lighthearted tune as you tap your feet in excitement against the mahogany.

          “Welcome to Psychology 3480, also known as Advanced Child and Adolescent Psychology. In this course, I will tear you to shreds, making you analyze yourself and who you have been in your life. All of you are just barely, if even, past the stage of adolescence, meaning you are at an impressionable stage of your life, a stage where what you learn will set a precedent for your future as a student, a person, a parent, as anyone who will have contact with a vulnerable, innocent mini-human being. It is my job so that, whatever vocation you take, whether it be psychologist, doctor, mother, clown, I don’t care, you be prepared and aware of how to understand and nurture the future generation. Any questions?”

          None of the college students move or reply, all of them riveted and inspired. You nod, satisfied, and jump down from the podium, grabbing a large stack of papers.

          “Here are the packets with outlines of the first three chapters, because, seriously? I make no money off making you buy those stupid textbooks, so why make you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          “I heard a rumor that his son calls her mom.”

          “I heard that apparently they use their offices to have sex.”

          “Dude, I bet they totally do; I mean, what else would you use those private offices for?” the boy points out as he rolls his eyes, his pen tapping a nonchalant tattoo against his notebook.

          “Dude, what if they had sex on the desks?” The two boys are startled as a loud thud from the front of the room. Professor Hotchner had come in and demanded his students attention by picking up a stack of thick textbooks and dropping them on his desk. They cringe as his sharp glare stabs them, even with an entire room inbetween them.

          “Professors use our offices for office hours, a service I offer and suggest you take advantage of, if your performance in Introduction to Psychology is any indication.” They only shrink back, slouching in their chairs, as Professor Hotchner turns swiftly on the heel of his foot and writes his name on the chalkboard in aggressive chalk strokes. “My name is Professor Hotchner, and this is Psychology 4280, Advanced Criminal Psychology. This semester, we will have intensive learning and hands-on experience with the criminal mind. We will delve into the psyches of history’s most prolific rapists, murderers, criminals who have done every violent crime under the sun, and in may, we will work with the local BAU division for you to make a profile of an UNSUB of their choosing. Anyone that is not prepared for that or had hopes of getting Professor Reid can get out right now with at least some semblance of their pride.”

          Under his steely scrutiny, five people stumble out the door, heads down, leaving fourteen students in their seats, shaking in their figurative boots. At the front of his class, Hotchner’s lips quirk upward with a tilt of the head as he turns back around to the board.

          “Last year, eight people left, leaving me with nine students. So far, I am pleased with your potential as a class.” With that statement, he starts to write the main points of the first chapter, and his students relax in their seats, wondering that just maybe Professor Hotchner isn’t as terrible and unforgiving as they heard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          “Hey, bebfyf,” you mumble as you saunter into the office, nudging the lock with your elbow. Aaron only waves a hand as he lays back on the small red chaise in your office. You place the two coffees on your desk and drop the bag of chips in your mouth before settling on top of him, one knee on either side of his hips. He lazily opens his eyes and smiles at you, his hand sliding up and down your leg as your pencil skirt rides up. “So, how was your class today?”

          “I actually have twelve students this year. Five walked out, and two won’t be coming back,” he murmurs appreciatively as you strip off your blazer and toss it across the room. You hum as you lay on him, your cheek resting on his solid chest as his hands wind around your waist and play with your hair.

          “That’s 33% more than last year! That’s great! I told you if you smiled on the first day, they wouldn’t be able to resist you. I don’t have to worry about any young undergrads, do I?” you ask. Aaron only laughs, and you preen with the attention as you feel his chest vibrate under yours.

          “It’s not me who has to worry. You know, Rossi told me Reid’s waitlists are completely filled again? Students were sitting in the walkways for him today.” You giggle at that, your fingertips tracing the line of his neck.

          “No wonder the Dean Strauss made Rossi head of department. It was a strike of genius making Reid teach Intro to Psych. JJ and I finally did some numbers the other day, and psych students have gone up sixteen percent since he started teaching three years ago. Coincidence? I think not.” He shrugs at that, not surprised, before hoisting the two of you into a sitting position. Aaron kisses you sweetly, and you reciprocate happily, your hands in his unbelievably soft hair. The pleasant, affectionate act relaxes you, and when you are finished, your lips are tingling and red as sin as you melt in his embrace. You both bask in the peaceful silence as Aaron strokes your hair.

          “So when are we going to tell everyone this has been going on?” he says into your hair. You shrug lazily, your hands flat on his chest, feeling his heart under your palm.

          “I mean, everyone practically knows already? I walked into my class hearing two girls practically writing fanfiction about us.” He chuckles, the soft hair at your temples tickling his nose.

          “I walked into my class to two students gossiping and speculating on exactly what we use our offices for. We are quite the campus conversation piece it seems.” You giggle in response before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

          “Rossi is betting we come out next week, and Garcia is betting on the week after that. They’re both willing to split the pool money with us fifty-fifty, so it just depends on when we want.”

          “Who’s betting this week?”

          “Morgan is, but let’s not tell everyone now. He wouldn’t split the pool with us, and he’d be unbearably smug about it for the entire duration of our relationship; I’d rather not give him the satisfaction.” He just snorts at that, his head falling back on the headrest as you sit up.

          “While we’re on the subject, I want to come up with a really funny way to tell our students… and possibly record their faces. Do you think Rossi would let us hold an assembly?


End file.
